The Spiders Web
by Duochanfan
Summary: It has been six months since Sherlock jumped off the roof of St Bart's, six months since John had stepped inside 221B Baker Street. But now that he's back, John begins to think on why Sherlock jumped? Eventual Johnlock
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**Here is a new fic for you all to enjoy, I do hope you like it!**

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**The Spiders Web**

**Chapter One**

John sighed softly as he looked back to where he had just been standing, as the cab pulled away from the graveyard. It had taken John almost five weeks to gather his wits after his last visit. He still didn't know what to say to Sherlock as he looked to the black marble and the golden letters that marked where his best friend now rested. John had to wondered how things would of developed between the two if things had been able to continue. He sighed as he leaned back and looked down to his folded hands, putting the 'what ifs' out of his mind for now.

It had been six long and hard months since Sherlock had jumped from the roof of St Bart's, and John still didn't know why Sherlock had done it. There just had to be something that caused him to do it. John knew that it had nothing to do with the decline in Sherlock's reputation. The man didn't care about that. As long as John believed in his, and that he could still do his cases, it would have been fine. No, there must have been something that had driven him to the roof top and to jump. That was the only thing that John wanted to know, was why.

The last six months had been hard for John. He had tried to returned to 221B Baker Street after Sherlock's death. But the man hadn't even been able to move himself over the thresh hold and inside the flat that the two of them had shared. To go in and not have Sherlock be there, no more violin at three in the morning, no more mad experiments, no more anything. It had squeezed John's heart so much that he had collapsed on the pavement.

Sherlock and John had started to spend more time with each other, outside of their cases. Small meals out, going places, that normally they wouldn't have, together. They had began that journey that took them from friendship to something more. Something had changed between the two of them and they were just beginning to figure it all out when Moriarty came back into their lives.

One small kiss that had been able to share before Sherlock got swept up in everything to do with Moriarty. It still destroyed John just thinking about it. A small kiss that mean that things ere different between then, that there was something more than the usual friendship that the two of them shared. He looked to the window once again as the streets of London passed him by. He could remembered running through nearly all of them at one point or another.

After Sherlock had jumped, and John couldn't step foot in 221B Baker Street, he had ended up staying with Harry. He hated every moment of it, while she lived in a nice area and had a wonderful home. Harry was still the spiteful woman she had become after her divorce to Clara. Throwing everything in his face about Sherlock being fake. That because he had jumped, he had made it look like he was guilty. No mater what John said, he couldn't stop her from ranting at him about it all, hurting him all the time. He spent most of his time wandering around the streets, staying out longer and longer, just to avoid the cutting and hurtful remarks.

Last night had been the worst. She had started on his as she normally did, and at the end of her rant, she had called Sherlock a freak. It had been the first time she had used that word around John, and it hurt him deeply to hear it. With her verbal attack then continuing on him and his feelings for Sherlock being brought up, John had ended up wandering outside for the rest of the night. As morning began to rise, he had plucked up the courage and had ended up standing in the graveyard, where Sherlock now rested. A part of him wanted nothing more than to join him, but somehow, knowing that if he even tried, Sherlock would be disappointed in him. It didn't mater how much of a hypocrite it would make the other.

John knew he had to go back to Baker Street. He had no where else to go and he could no longer stand the thought of being near Harry. He didn't even think he would be able to talk to her or even forgive her for her words any time soon. She had crossed a line, and thought he hadn't said a word about her drinking habits, she had still be her bitchy selfish self towards him, as though he had mentioned them.

A pang of hurt and sorrow made itself know as the cab rilled into Baker Street and stopped outside 221B. John looked at the door and sighed, he missed Sherlock, and the only thing he wanted was for his wish to be true. For him not to be dead and for him to come home, to where he belonged.

He paid the cab driver as he climbed out of the back and walked over to the front door. He pulled out his keys and looked to them, and then to the black door with the brass numbers. Still shining as brightly as they did when he had last walked out of them. John frowned when he saw that the knocker was straight, he reached up and pushed it, so it was crooked. He put his key in the door and turned them, unlocking the door. He walked in for the first time in just over six months and stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked up.

'_You invaded Afghanistan.'_ Came a whisper of Sherlock's voice, as though it would get him to pluck up the courage to go up the stairs.

John closed his eyes as his min played tricks on him. For a moment he thought he could even hear the strains of a violin as Sherlock played. He shook his head, getting rid of them as best as he could. He remained where he was standing for a few more moments as the door to 221A opened and Mrs Hudson walked out.

"Oh John," she smiled, it was a sad smile. She rushed towards him and wrapped her thin arms around him, and held onto him tightly, as though he might disappear once more. "Oh John, you're home," she said, her voice soft and full of sorrow.

John wrapped his own arms around her and held her just as tightly, neither of them wanted to let go of the last person that understood and cared about Sherlock like they did. "I'm home Mrs Hudson," he told her gently, "I'm home."

She pulled her head back, without letting him go as she looked up to him, he was only slightly more taller than her, "For good?" she asked him, as she looked into his eyes, wanting to see if he would tell her the truth.

John nodded his head slowly, "Yes, Mrs Hudson, for good. I'm not leaving again this time, this is my home."

She smiled back to him as she got him to go up the stairs, promising a nice cup of tea and to see if she couldn't find them some biscuits. Reminding the man that she wasn't his housekeeper, but just this once she would do a cu for him. John couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face, Mrs Hudson would never change, and for that one thing, he was thankful.

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**Thank you for reading this new story. I don't know how long it will be. But I do hope that you'll enjoy it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**Now for someone else's POV.**

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**Spiders Web**

**Chapter Two**

Sherlock looked out of the window at the overcast sky. He sighed as he went over to the bed and spun around as he fell onto it. He looked up at the cracked ceiling of the cheap hotel room that he had checked into the day before. He was now in Prague, another hotel in another city of the world. It was the latest in a string of cheap hotels and inns he had stayed in since he had faked his death over six months ago. His piecing gaze following the cracks in the ceiling above him. It was the same in nearly all that he had stayed in. The hotels and inns whose clientele were from the shadier side of life.

Sherlock huffed a little as his mind went back over the last six months; to the day he had made his choice. Sherlock had no choice in the end but to fake his death. He had to make sure that they would be all right, that they would be safe. To him it was better for them t be alive and safe, than for them to be dead because he didn't jump.

Sherlock had no doubt that he would miss Mrs Hudson and Lestrade if anything ever happened to the two of them. He considered the two his parental figures, they were family to him. Then there was John, he was the one Sherlock needed to keep safe, no mater what. It made his decision to jump easier, but it was still hard for him to do it. Sherlock cared for John deeply, he had been shocked when he had realised it. He hadn't liked the fact that he had to appear dead to John, to make him believe it. It hurt Sherlock to be away from John and to leave him to that belief. He'd asked Molly and Mycroft for their help in pulling it off. It had been done in a rush but it had worked.

It had taken every bit of Sherlock's will power to stop himself from ruining the plan. When John had reached him after the jump and checked him for a pulse, Sherlock had wanted to reach out and grab him. He could hear the hurt and the devastation in John's voice as he knelt beside him. Then someone had pulled him away, and the moment was gone. He had then wanted to stand up and shout to him that he was fine. That there was a reason behind everything. But Sherlock knew they would be watching John. Watching the doctor closer than either Mrs Hudson or Lestrade.

Sherlock just couldn't do it; it would put John in danger once again. Sherlock had to keep him safe. John was the only person that Sherlock had began to let into his cold and dead heart as something more than a friend. He had let Mrs Hudson and Lestrade into his life as family. The two had broken through with their acceptance of who he was. Their friendly smiles, the help, and the way they stood by him when things got rough.

John had been different not just standing by him, but helping him just as much as they did. His smiles and friendly nature drawing Sherlock closer to him. There was just something about him that brought a smile to Sherlock's face. Sherlock knew that he would puzzle over John for the rest of his life, and he would do so happily. Then Sherlock had kissed him, just the once, but it had been enough to tell him that things were changing and it was a good change. What had been growing between them since their very first meeting at St Bart's, a promise of a new stage in their relationship. One Sherlock hoped he would be able to continue after his mission.

For the last six months, Sherlock had been going from city to city, from country to country, and sometimes from one Continent to another. He had no choice as he moved around, unknown to anyone. Sherlock had done things that he knew would haunt him in what little sleep he would get. Though to him, it was worth it, worth it to keep them all sage. Sherlock snorted a little as he remembered what Mycroft had told him in their last phone call to each other. There were still two snipers left, the two that were assigned to Lestrade and John. There were only three men that Sherlock needed to take out personally, the others would be taken care of by Mycroft and his men. One of those three men was in Prague, and Sherlock was now waiting for the intel that he needed to locate him and take him down.

The man had information about the last two, the snipers. Sherlock nodded it to find out who they were, to locate the two. Mycroft and Sherlock hadn't been able to find anything about the last two. They knew that one was the right hand of Moriarty, and had taken his place. But much like Moriarty, he was a Ghost in the system, and neither of the two Holmes brothers had been able to find anything out about him. His target was John, and the one Sherlock wanted to find quickly. The second snipe was in or near New Scotland Yard at all times. Mycroft had tried to flush him out but hadn't been able to. Sherlock sighed in frustration, he hated waiting and that was all he could do for now.

Sherlock almost jumped as his phone beeped. A text message had come through on the burner phone he had picked up as soon as he had entered the city. It was a way for him to keep in touch with Mycroft and the help he sent to Sherlock, as he tracked down and took down the higher ups of Moriarty's web of criminals.

**Cafe across the street from the hotel. He is there now. Red hair, short and spiked. Bark blue eyes. 5 foot 11 inches, 115lbs. Wearing dark blue jeans, black converse, light blue t-shit with a black jacket, open, on top. - MH**

Sherlock smirked, this was it. Hopefully in a short while he will be able to find out that last bit of information that he needed. Then Sherlock would be able to get rid of the last two men and finally head back home. Back home to John. Sherlock just hoped that the other would forgive him for what he had done in making John believe him to be dead for so long.

Sherlock stood up and gathered everything he had brought with him, which wasn't that much. It was best for him to travel light, as he didn't know when he would need to make a quick exit. He looked around, making sure that he hadn't left anything, since he wouldn't be coming back. He went down to reception, it was empty of people. He put the key on the counter and then left the hotel. He stood in a spot that was out of the way and out of sight of people and waited.

Sherlock didn't have to wait long to spot him as he came out of the cafe. Sherlock followed at a safe distance from the man. He waited a while until he finally went down an alley. He moved quickly as he took him out. With help from one or two of Mycroft's minions to get him to the safe house. Sherlock just hoped it wouldn't take long for him to extract the information he needed.

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**Thank you for the reviews, happy that you are liking this one. Hope you enjoy this chapter as well.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**Well here is another chapter.**

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**Spiders Web**

**Chapter Three**

John walked into the flat once again. A lot of Sherlock belongs had been packed away in his room. They were now waiting for John and Mycroft to figure out what to do with them. Though that was made more difficult with John not wanting to see Mycroft and Mycroft avoiding John. Though the former soldier was aware that his best's friend's older brother was still watching him, monitoring his comings and goings. Keeping an eye on his as he had done with his younger brother.

John looked around, seeing the little things that reminded him of Sherlock. There was an acid burn on the table from one of Sherlock's last experiments, and the sight of Sherlock's precious violin on the desk. He gave a small smile of sadness and sighed. John still missed Sherlock and wished he were standing beside. He went into the kitchen and made himself some tea, taking off his coat as he made it.

John sat down in his customary chair, still not sitting on the sofa. He had been back home for over two days now. He was taking baby steps as he tried to find a niche in a home that still felt as though the other occupant would suddenly walk through the door. He drank his tea, enjoying the taste and letting it settled him down after work.

He pulled the paper and began to read, he couldn't help but shake his head at some of the news that was being reported. He was still waiting for something to come out about Sherlock, this time to clear his name. They had already gone through all the cases tat Sherlock had helped with over the last six, almost seven years he had been working with New Scotland Yard. Not one had anything in them that proved Sherlock to be a fraud. Sherlock had been real, what he had done as real and the results were proven by facts, not just by what Sherlock had told people.

Mycroft hadn't mentioned anything. John had no doubt that even though they were avoiding each other, he would find a way to let him know. John carried on reading as he face fell into a frown as he read a small bottom of the page article.

**Suicide of Banker in Prague**

_**37-year-old James Billings was found in his hotel room in Prague yesterday evening. He had been found hung from the back of the door of his bathroom. Mr Billings, a banker from London, was holidaying in Prague after having taken a year off from his time consuming work six months ago. He has no surviving family members.**_

_**Billings a former military man who had been discharged without honour seven years ago, became a reformed man as he took to working at London's main Bank. Co-workers have all said they wouldn't think this of him. But they also found it odd that the man had taken such a long vacation, and had reported to being travelling through Europe.**_

John believed that the name sounded very familiar to him. He looked to the small accompanying picture and his memories went back in time, to when he had woken up in the changing room of a swimming pool. He was one of four men that had kidnapped him and had taken him to the pool and strapped him into the semtex vest. That was the last one. Over the last six months. Those that John knew to have worked with Moriarty at one point were all turning up dead all over the world. Each of them was supposedly on holiday after taking a sabbatical from work. Each reported to have been a form of suicide.

John knew something else was going on and he had a good idea of who he would be able to go to, to find out. John pulled out his phone and was about to call Mycroft when the door to the flat opened again and Mrs Hudson walked in, a tray of scones and tea with her. John almost sighed a little as she placed the tray down and poured some tea for them both.

"Hello John, how was work?" she asked him smiling as she watched him take the tea from her. She had done the same yesterday. John knew that it was a way for her to make sure that he was still around. She was worried that he would disappear on her again.

"It was okay, mainly flu and colds at the moment," he smiled politely. He wanted was for her to go so that he could call Mycroft and ask him what was going on with these suicides.

Mrs Hudson smiled and sighed as she looked around the living room, "It's not really the same is it?" she questioned out loud.

John instantly knew what she was talking about, "Yeah I know, I don't think it will ever be the sake without Sherlock around. It's hard to think of him as gone." he admitted, and it was hard, harder than anything he could think of.

"Though it is good to have you home at least," she said as she stood up and patted his arm, "I still can't think why he did it. There was no need for it, we could have always figured something out to help him. With both of us helping as well, it would have all been fine." she sighed as she went to the window and looked out.

"I don't understand either. I know he was telling me he was fake, and that it was all a magic trick. But I know that he didn't care what anyone thought of him. So he didn't do it because of that. There must have been something else that made him jump." John agreed as he looked to the elderly woman.

She smiled to him "Well, I should leave you to you tea and scones. Do eat up, you're getting a bad as Sherlock." she admonished him as she walked passed him, once again patting his arm and walking out of the flat.

John smiled a little as she went, sighing he looked to the window. Things whirling in his mind as he tired to get the facts straight. He pulled out his phone and dialled a number that he hadn't had cause to in a long time.

"Hello John," came the smooth tones of Mycroft Holmes.

"Mycroft, I think we need to talk." He said, his voice serious.

"All right. I'll come and see you soon. I won't be able to tonight but I will tomorrow. So I shall be at Baker Street then." He told his brothers best friend.

"All right. See you then." John said as he hung up. There was nothing else to be said between the two of them.

John looked to the window and closed his eyes. He knew that something more was going on and that he knew that Sherlock and Mycroft were involved somehow. He just wanted to know the truth for once. And what he had pieced together didn't paint a good picture of what had happened.

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**Thank you all for reading. I do hope you are all enjoying this so far. Thank you all for the reviews! I adore them!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**Well, another chapter is done, and I do hope you enjoy it.**

**The Spiders Web**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

John sat on the sofa in the living room of Baker Street looking towards the windows. He could hear someone coming up the stairs, and he knew it was Mycroft. The older man had said that he would stop by so that the two of them could talk. He turned towards the door as it opened and gave a grimacing smile to the man as he walked inside.

"John," Mycroft nodded in greeting, a serious look on his face as he studied the clean and tidy living room, scanning for anything out of place. "I would like to invite you to lunch at my home. I believe we will be able to talk about the future there." He emphasized, hoping that John would get the hint and go along with it. Mycroft knew that there was his monitoring equipment still in the flat. He had seen his own, but there were hints of someone else's equipment around as well. He didn't want to take a chance of someone else listening into this particular conversation.

"I suppose," John nodded as he stood. There was a small frown on his face. He was right something was going on. He grabbed his jacket and the two left the flat. John climbed into the passenger side as Mycroft got into the drivers side. Mycroft wasn't the type to drive himself anywhere. So what ever it was that was going on, it was secret, and it worried John.

The two were silent as Mycroft drove through the streets. John looked over to the man; he could see that the other was stressed. There were also more worry lines than there had been the last time John had spoken to him not long after Sherlock's funeral. Mycroft parked up at his city house and quickly got out. John followed him inside and into the mans study.

"Okay, it is safe to talk here. I don't know if people are watching you within 221B." Mycroft said as he turned to look at the man before him. Mycroft's posture was stiff, but more relaxed that he had been at Baker Street.

John stood straight as he said, "I Know Sherlock is alive."

Mycroft smirked and shook his head, "Sherlock was right, he said you would figure it out. I made the mistake of not believing him. Told me that in a few months, when you finished grieving for him. you would start to put it all together."

"Nice to know he doesn't think me stupid," John snorted and rolled his eyes, "So, are you going to tell me what is going on?" He demanded, standing at parade rest.

Mycroft sighed wearily, nodding a little, "Yes." He then sat down in an armchair away from his desk and gestured for John to do the same on the one opposite.

John sat down and asked, "Why did he do it? That's the only thing I can think to ask. I don't know how either, but knowing Sherlock, it could be something extremely simple or so complex that it would go over my head." He gave a small smile.

"We decided something simple, it was set up quickly, very quickly. As for why. You, Detective Inspector Lestrade and Mrs Hudson. There were snipers on all three of you. One wrong move and you would a;; be dead. Sherlock met Moriarty on the roof of St Bart's. He killed himself to make sure that Sherlock wouldn't be able to get him to call the orders off. They had orders that if Sherlock didn't jump all three of you would be killed. You were in the cross hairs as you talked to Sherlock on the roof." Mycroft told him.

John nodded, "Damn," he shook his head, "And he thought I wouldn't be able to act, he was always telling me I couldn't." He snorted, grimacing a little.

"Yes, that's why he refrained from telling you the truth. Though I do know that he almost broke that little rule himself a number of times since he has been gone. He…" he paused for a moment a genuine smile making it's way onto his face as he carried on, "cares for you deeply."

John smiled back as he said; "I care for him too." he then sat up straight in his chair and demanded, "I want to help. If there is anything that I can do to make sure he comes home safe, tell me."

Mycroft chuckled, "You always kept him safe. I do wish that there was something that you could do to help him. But at this moment in time I very much doubt there is."

John nodded slowly, "What's going on with the snipers at the moment?" he then asked, wondering if there was something he could do about them.

"Sherlock was able to take care of one of them at least. That I know of. I don't know about the other two. Sherlock has been trying to find out more information about the remaining two." He told the doctor, "Until then there is nothing more I can do, nor you. It's all up to Sherlock." he sighed; the weight of what Sherlock was doing alone resting on his once again.

"Right." John sighed, "You look exhausted," he observed.

Mycroft gave a weary smile "You know what it is like when you are watching over Sherlock. He may not be here, but out there alone, I can do nothing to help him. He has no choice but to rely on himself."

"You worry," John acknowledged.

"Yes, constantly," he nodded; a fearful look was in his eyes.

John did what he could to reassure him, "He'll be all right. You know what he is like."

Mycroft snorted and looked a little embarrassed with his reaction, "I hope he will, he has done thing that will haunt him. He will rely on you for things.

John nodded his head, "I'll do my best to help him." he said as he wondered what Sherlock had to do.

Mycroft nodded in thanks as he then stood up and changed the subject, "Lunch should be done by now, please join me."

"Why not, who's cooking though?" John asked as he too stood up.

"Anthea, she is a woman of many, many talents." He replied with a secretive smirk on his face.

The two walked into the kitchen. Anthea turned and smiled a greeting to the two men and served the meal. Setting down three plates and then joined them for lunch as well. The two men carried most of the conversation, with Anthea only joining in occasionally.

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**Thank you for reading this so far. And thank you all for reviewing, I adore you guys! Well, I hope you enjoyed it.**

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	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

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**The Spiders Web**

**Chapter Five**

John had told Anthea that he and Mycroft would clean up the kitchen after they had finished their lunch. Anthea had protested that she could do it on her own. John had just smiled and told her that since she had made them lunch then they should clean up. Mycroft looked on in amusement, but helped John to clean up. Anthea had ignored the order to sit down and helped them as well. The three worked together and finished quickly. Anthea left the two of them alone as she walked out of the room.

Mycroft smiled and said, "Come, let's go to the living room and relax a little while I tell you more of what is going on with Sherlock at the moment."

John nodded, "Good," he mumbled a little as he followed Mycroft through the house and into a large living room.

"Sit, please," Mycroft said as he waved a hand to the chairs and sofa that was in the room. Mycroft sat down on one of the chairs and waited for John to do the same.

John went over to one of the chairs and sat down, "So, can you tell me where he is and what he is doing at the moment?" he asked the older man as he looked to him. He could see the stress and worry on the others face. The older man wasn't hiding it at that moment.

Mycroft nodded, "I will." He paused for a moment as he began to explain, "Sherlock is in Prague and has been for around two weeks. He has already taken care of one of Moriarty's men there and yesterday he was able to get the second, and is currently interrogating him. Who he has now is one of Moriarty's top men. He has the man that knows who the snipers are. So there is important information he is trying to get." He finished.

"The first one was the one in the paper," John nodded slowly as he remembered the article he had read, "It was what gave me the last part of the puzzle. He was one of the people that had taken me from the street. All the others have turned up dead, all reported as suicides while on holiday. I don't believe in coincidences any more, thanks to Sherlock." He gave a snort at the last comment.

Mycroft had a small smile on his face as he gave a little chuckle, "Yes, he does have that effect on people. Always changing the way we believe."

John nodded, "Yeah. Coincidences were just funny little things that happened. Now there are conspiracies behind them." He smirked and shook his head.

"Yes," he smiled as he then told John, "I am hoping we will have the information about the two snipers today. It would be nice to have Sherlock back," he smiled, "and safe." He added softly.

John was about to say something when Mycroft mobile began to ring. John frowned in worry as he saw Mycroft go pale at the ring tone. Mycroft jumped up and started to head out of the room as he pulled it from his pocket to answer it. John was about to get up and follow, when Mycroft told him to stay there. Mycroft answered the phone as he walked out of the room. John was tempted to get up and follow, but knew it wasn't worth the hassle. It took over five minutes for Mycroft to come back into the room, the worry still there.

"We have a situation," he said as he stood just inside the room.

"What's going on?" John asked as he stood up and turned to face Mycroft.

Mycroft took a step closer as he ran a hand through his hair, messing it slightly as he did so, "Sherlock had finally gotten the information we need. But we now have another problem. When we took him, he had a mailer sent out to the two snipers if he didn't return within a certain time to cancel it. They now know that Sherlock is alive. So their orders are to now be carried out. The one after you is over seas and won't be here for a little while longer. At least a day. But the one that is ordered to assassinate Lestrade is here in the country. We have around half hour before he makes it to New Scotland Yard. Where Lestrade is currently. Normally he would be at the Yard, but Cassidy has the day off."

"So what are we going to do?" he asked, as his eyes went a little wide at the name. He knew Cassidy thought of him as a good guy.

"I am going to head over there and take him out. I have no choice." Mycroft told him, "We have confirmed that the sniper is Sergeant Cassidy."

"No you're not. I'll do it. I'll take care of it." John said with a shake of his head at Mycroft's suggestion. He needed to do something to help.

"You…" Mycroft began as Anthea walked into the room and over to her boss.

"Mycroft, from your own mouth you haven't done legwork in a long time. It's not something I haven't done before." John gave a crooked smile as he stopped him from saying anything.

"Then you will need these," Anthea said as she pulled out her own weapon and an identity card. She handed them over and smiled as she added, "Make sure to take him out, don't let him get a shot off if you can help it."

John nodded as he took the gun and put it away and then looked to the card, "It has my name on it?" He puzzled as he looked to Mycroft for an explanation.

"That is a special licence," Anthea was the one to give part of the explanation as she carried on, "Think James Bond." She winked to him, causing John to give a burst of laughter and a nod.

"I had a feeling it would be needed one day. As soon as I found out that you had shot Jeff Hope to save Sherlock life. I had you listed as an agent of mine. To make sure that if you ever had to do that again, to protect Sherlock. You would also have protection. Having you listed as working for the Government in protecting Sherlock." he grinned a little as he added, "I basically have you listed as Sherlock's bodyguard. You are protecting my family. I do have enemies as well, and I know they would love nothing more than to take them all out especially Sherlock, as he is not well hidden." Mycroft explained to him.

"Right," John nodded and shook his head, "Good thing then." He smirked a little.

Mycroft nodded and told him, "Very."

"There is a car waiting for you downstairs, I've contacted the driver and he is to take you directly to New Scotland Yard. He will not be stopping at all." Anthea then said as she looked up from her Blackberry and over to John.

John gave a smile to her and said, "Thanks," he then gave a nod to Mycroft and rushed out of the door and down into the waiting car. He got in and it sped away from Mycroft's home and towards New Scotland Yard. John hoped that he would be in time.

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**Thank you all for reading. I do hope that you have enjoyed this chapter. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, you guys rock!**


	6. Chapter 6

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**NaNoWriMo is almost here, around October I go into a state of hiatus until December. I will be posting until the 1st October, and then won't be posting again until the 10th December.**

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**Spiders Web**

**Chapter Six**

Anthea looked to her boss as the door closed behind John. She waited for the next set of instructions. She was a little worried about John going on his own. She had taken to watching over the doctor. Much as Mycroft did with his little brother. Mycroft turned to her, a weary look on his face. She smiled to him and he gave her a small but worried smile back.

"Please see to it that plans are made for my brothers immediate return. I want him on a plane back home as soon as possible." He told her.

"Yes sir." She nodded as he began to type on her blackberry, making plans.

Mycroft was feeling uneasy about sending John out on his own, "I need to call my brother." He said absently shaking his head. He pulled out his phone and dialled the number of the burner phone his brother was currently using.

There were a few rings before it was finally answered, "Unusual to call me Mycroft, I trust you are doing all you can to protect Lestrade. I will not be happy is something happens to him."

Mycroft hummed a little, "John is on his way to take care of it." He answered.

"What!" the man on the other end exclaimed, "Mycroft, go after him. Keep him safe. While this mans task is to assassinate Lestrade, they know of each other's orders. And I have no doubt it would be too good an opportunity for him to kill John as well. Go after him and protect him Mycroft." He almost growled.

"I shall Sherlock, you should be getting information soon about you return flight home. I shall, hopefully, see you soon." Mycroft said as he looked to Anthea.

"Information on its way to him now sir." She smiled to him and then asked him, "Do you wish for me to get another car here, or shall I drive." She gave a smirk at that as Mycroft couldn't help but pale.

"I would rather a car be sent, but time is of the essence. So you shall drive my dear. Just try not to run anyone over." Mycroft gave a sigh and a small shudder. Mycroft still believed that Anthea didn't know what the word brake meant, or even how to use it on a car.

Anthea smiled as she almost bounced out of the room. It was only her tight control that stopped her from skipping away from her boss. It wasn't often she was allowed to drive. Mycroft gave a small smile as he watched her leave.

"Sherlock, I shall see you soon. I shall do all I can to keep John safe." He promised his brother.

"Thank you." Came a soft reply, "Moran will not come back to England until after I. But there is always a chance." He said as he had gotten the information he needed to come home. "Watch over him, and keep him safe. I shall be back to carry on from there. We'll have to formulate a plan to get Moran. He isn't stupid. He was Moriarty's second in command after all. With Moran gone, the rest of the web falls." He added.

"Very well brother." He nodded as he began to head out of the door and down the stairs towards the front. He knew Anthea would already be waiting for him in the front seat.

"Good bye Mycroft, see you soon." He said pleasantly, which startled Mycroft a little. "And have fun with Anthea in the drivers seat." Came the dry chuckle.

Mycroft snorted, "I very much doubt it, bye little brother." He said as he ended the call and put his phone away. He gave a sigh of resignation as he looked to the sleek black car that was waiting for him.

"Get in sir," Anthea said as she stood on the other side of it. She climbed smoothly into the drivers seat and buckled up. She looked to the passenger side and waited for her boss to climb in.

"Please remember that we are not on a race track dear." He smiled to her, it was a little tight.

Anthea couldn't help the giggle of excitement, "Sorry sir, not very professional I know. But you know I love to drive."

Mycroft sighed, he put up with a lot with Anthea as his assistant. There was a whole side to her that no one but he had seen. She was rather good at her job, despite the more playful side of her. "Let's go Anthea." He said as he buckled up and grabbed the bar above his head, holding on with a death grip.

Anthea turned and smiled to him, "Yes sir." She started the car and sped out of the driveway.

Mycroft held on for dear life. He just hoped that Sherlock was wrong and that John wasn't in any danger with this. He would never forgive himself if he had sent John into danger. And neither would Sherlock for that mater. Even Anthea may end up hating him, as she had a soft spot for the doctor. She had been the one to keep tabs on him, acting like an overprotective older sister. Much as he acted with Sherlock. Though not as obtrusive, he had to admit.

Mycroft looked over to her and could see the slight hint of worry in her warm brown eyes. "He shall be fine my dear. He is able to take care of himself." He reminded her.

"I know. But some things you can not protect yourself against." She told him. She sped through an amber light. Mycroft tightened his grip and held on as they carried on towards New Scotland Yard in silence.

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**Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. You guys are brilliant! So happy to see that people are enjoying this story, hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**NaNoWriMo is almost here; around October I go into a state of hiatus until December. I will try and make one last post on the 1st October, no promises now. I will not be posting again until the 10th December.**

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**Spider Web**

**Chapter Seven**

John got out of the car and looked around him, hoping he could have spot Cassidy outside. He didn't want to think of the man getting anywhere near Greg before he could warn his friend of the danger. While he hadn't spent as much time with Greg as he used to, things were beginning to return to the friendship they had before. They had gone out for pints at least once a week over the two months. With one last glance around he cursed as he went into New Scotland Yard.

John rushed over to the lift and pushed the button for Greg's floor. He had to move fast and he knew that going up the stairs would be fast in certain cases, this time it wouldn't. He prayed as the lift went up, hoping that no one would be wanting to go up either. He sighed in relief as it reached Greg's floor without stopping. He stepped out of the lift. John glanced over to Greg's office and he could just about see that his friend was in there, thought the glass. He looked around the bullpen hoping he would be able to see if Cassidy was in there. He went to move further into the area and was brought up short when someone stood in his way.

"What are you doing here?" came the sneering voice of Donovan, the woman was standing in front of him, her hands on her hips as she looked to him, glaring at the doctor.

"Just get out of my way, I'm here to see Greg. I don't want to speak to you at all." John told her as he tried to step around her.

She moved in front of him and shook her head, "No chance am I letting you go and see him. You and that dead freak friend of yours almost got him fired."

John looked at her dead in the eye and through gritted teeth and told her, "I don't give a shit what you think and believe. I know what is going on and you don't. You never have done, because you don't listen to what people tell you. And it was you and that fucking Anderson in the end that almost ruined things. Now get out of my way I have something to do and that doesn't include talking to a spiteful prejudice woman such as your self. Do the world a favour and fuck off." He said as he moved past the shocked woman as he spotted who he was after.

Donovan tried to grab his arm as he went past her, still not wanting the doctor to go anywhere near the Detective Inspector. Her eyes went wide as John was able to dodge it as the door to Greg's office opened and he began to head out of it. She rushed to follow him as she watched him pull a gun from a holster as John rushing towards Greg. John had seen Cassidy, and he could see the man pulling a gun out and aiming it towards Greg.

"Greg," John said as he barrelled into him as a shot rang out in the room. John gave a cry of pain as a bullet hit him in the right arm.

Greg looked shocked as he looked to his friend. He was about to get up when John grabbed him and pulled him down and covered him. John brought forth his gun and aimed at Cassidy. Who was re-aiming the gun towards them. John's left arm was steady as he pointed the gun and squeezed the trigger.

Two shots rang out in the room, leading to one of the men firing to cry out in pain. A thud was heard as the other fell back. A bullet between his eyes as he stared at nothing, the light of life already faded from them.

Greg pushed John off him and was able to turn to see his friend, from where he had been forced to lie down. "John!" he called as he was able to see his friend.

"Hey Greg," he gave a small smile as he put his gun away and pressed his left hand to the injury on his right side, wincing at the pain it caused.

"What the hell mate," he said shaking his head as he could see blood on the mans arm as well. Greg pressed down on the injury, causing John to wince again.

"Sorry about barging into you," John apologised with a wry smile.

"I'll accept it if you tell me what the hell is going on?" he asked as he voice went serious as he looked to the man that John had killed and then back to his friend, "Donovan," he said as he saw the woman nearby, "Call an ambulance now."

The woman rolled her eyes and did as she was told, "Ambulance on the way," she told him after a few moments. "Though I do suggest that you put him under arrest as well. He has just killed one of our own, Cassidy's dead sir. As far as I am concerned, we should never have let him go after we got him after the freak killed himself. Watson has just killed Cassidy in cold blood." She added as she turned hate filled eyes towards John.

Greg looked from John and then to Donovan, "And if you recall Donovan, that Cassidy was firing at me first before John even fired a shot. He was shooting at me, and I have no doubt that if John hadn't ran into me, I would be dead." He told her as he then turned his attention back to John, who was looking paler by the second, "What to tell me what is going on?"

John looked to him, his face pale as he tried to stem the blood flow, "Don't think I could explain everything." He said in a weak voice, as he slumped to the side, unconscious. The lift doors opened and two more people rushed into the bullpen and over to them.

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**Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. You guys are the best. I do hope you carry on enjoying this little fic. Don't know how much more is left.**


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